FORGIVE OR FURY

Finally, as the crying diminished to hiccups, she patted my knee.

"Men break things," she stated simply. "Sometimes they break us, too. But you're still here. That's the part that matters."

I stayed with her for three days. Slept in her guest room, which smelled like mothballs and lavender. Ate arroz con pollo until I could keep that down. Made phone calls from her landline phone: cards canceled, new ones on the way and going straight to a PO box. Reported car stolen rather than explain my involvement. Informed gallery that I needed indefinite leave of absence "due to family emergency."

I hadn't said anything to anyone about the baby. Not yet.

On the fourth day, I got a cheap burn phone, looked at the phone number of Adrian for twenty minutes, and then I blocked that number.

Isabel's too.

I told myself that it was a need to survive, to preserve myself. I told myself that I was protecting the baby.

But deep down I knew the truth. I knew I was afraid of what I'd do if I heard his voice. I'd crumble. I'd possibly even believe that he was sorry. But I couldn't afford to do that anymore.

A small furnished studio apartment in a good neighborhood was mine in just two weeks; no frills, peeling paint, crazy neighbors, one window overlooking a fire escape and a dumpster. But mine nonetheless. From an emergency savings box stored in a bank that Adrian knew nothing about, the funds were paid upfront.

I also began attending the free prenatal clinics. I'd sit in those waiting rooms lined with tired mom to be's and worried to be daddies, and feel like a fake. Everyone else had an arm to hold onto. I would bring a notebook and write letters to my unborn baby-unnamed at the time.

Dearly beloved little one,

I have to say, however, that the day has been the first that I have become conscious of your movement, these butterfly-like movements in my ribs.I also cried a lot in the bathroom at the clinic just because I was so happy, yet scared, at the same time.

I am trying to be strong for you, and that is working out great for me some days, while other days I am just sitting on the floor missing the man I have believed all my life has loved me.

But I'll tell you this, little one: No one will ever hurt you like I was hurt. Not as long as I am drawing breath to defend you from their grasp.

Love,

Mom

The months seemed like they were

Winter arrived. Snow fell on the fire escape. I grew bigger, slower, more tired. The gallery was willing to let me go permanently: a position in a small bookstore and café. I shelved paperbacks, steamed oat-based lattes, and forced a smile at customers, though my heart was shards of glass under my feet.

I avoided mirrors most days. The woman that peered back at me had empty eyes and a small scar from my left cheek from the accident that was faint and permanent. A reminder.

One evening in the early days of spring, I was closing the café, while the bell above the door jingled.

I didn't turn. Just spoke into the intercom and said, "We're closed, sorry."

Then, I froze. "I've decided to come

Thinner. Dark circles under his eyes. He has a longer, unkempt hairstyle. He is wearing the same coat he had on the first time he attacked me. The same coat my face was buried in as he came in late every night.

He was one of those men who looked as though he had never slept for months.

"Cecilia," he whispered, as if my name was at once the solution to all my prayers and the source of all my curses.

My knuckles were white as I gripped the counter with both hands. "Get out."

"Please. Just 5 minutes. I've been looking for you everywhere."

'You found me. Now leave.'"

He moved one foot closer to me. I winced. He instantly ceased and held up his hands.

"I'm not here to hurt you. I swear."

"You already did." My voice cracked. "You destroyed me. You and her."

His face crumpled. "Isabel lied. About everything. There was no baby. She faked the tests, the ultrasound pictures-everything. She wanted to keep me. She thought if I thought she was pregnant I'd-"

"Stop." I held up a hand. Tears were already falling. "I don't care why she did it. You let her. You chose her. You hit me."

He winced as if I'd slapped him. "I didn't intend to. I was just going to stop you from running into traffic. I panicked. I have hated myself every second since that happened."

I laughed, bitter, broken. "You think that makes it okay?"

"No." His voice was hoarse. "Nothing makes it okay. I know that."

Silence hung heavy between us. Thick. Suffocating.

Then came the words I had never wanted to hear:

"I know about the baby."

My heart stopped.

"How

'I just assumed that you were telling me you were pregnant was just a joke. One of the nurses at the hospital... she recognized your name when I was asking around. She told me you were pregnant. That you almost died in the crash.'

Automatically, my arms wrapped around my stomach in a protective position.

"She's safe," I told her. "She's safe and she's mine. And you don't get to come back now and claim her."

"Because I have no claim to make." His eyes were damp from held-back tears. "Just.just need to tell you that every single day, every moment, every breath of my existence since you vanished has been a hell existence. Sold my penthouse apartment. Temporarily given up my position in the company. Trying to learn things about our fathers, what went on."

I glanced over to him and asked, "Why?"

"Because if I was wrong..if your father didn't.." He struggled to swallow hard. "If I destroyed us for nothing... I don't know how to live with that."

I felt overwhelmed by a need to scream at him. I felt a need to throw my espresso machine at his head. I felt a need to run to him and pretend everything never happened.

Instead, I said, very quietly,

"Get out, Adrian. And don't come back."

He stood there another long moment, looking at me like he was memorizing every line of my face.

Then he nodded once.

"I love you," he said. "I always did. Even when I was too fucked up to admit it."

"I said I'll go," he said to

Again, the bell jingled. Soft. Final.

Lying hard against the floor next to the counter, pulling my knees to my chest, I cried hysterically.

And yet, despite all of that, despite all the lies, the slap, the crash, the months of rebuilding by myself, yet there was something inside my own heart that loved him too.

And that hurts worst than anything else.